So, as you may recall, last week I was having a few memory issues. First the good news; on my arduous journey up to Scouse-land it all came flooding back. The bad news is that so did the six bottles of presecco all over my top, and the poor man sitting next to me also got a splattering.
Anyway, it transpired he worked for Google and I’m sure you will believe me when I tell you he certainly didn’t mind being placed next to filthy content.
In fact, he actually took a bit of a shine to me – no doubt the wet T-shirt look had something to do with it – and we ended up striking up a bit of a rapport. So much so that as soon as we got off the train he took me shopping at a designer boutique near Lime Street Station and kitted me out in a new sexy top. (Yeah, would you believe it, they even have posh shops up there now and everything?)
And so to Aintree, where everyone was keeping a close eye on my big tips even though they had about as much chance of winning as Google man had of escaping my clutches.
Talking of big losses, I must register my gratitude to the Beast of Burnage for rescuing me last week, when I really lost it big stylee. Apparently, I was in such a state that he missed his kids bedtime story to make sure I got back to my cheap hotel. No funny business, but not for want of trying on my part.
Still, to show my appreciation I was going to give his kids all my Easter chocolate – well it is the season for sacrifice – until I realised the only thing I had been sent was the “Golden Boy”, 8½ inches of solid milk chocolate brushed with elegant edible gold powder.
Probably not very suitable for the kids, but I bet his missus wouldn’t mind a bit of that…
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